Iogel had the most merry balls in Moscow. This was said by the mothers as they watched their adolescentes [adolescent girls] executing their newly learned pas; it was said by the adolescentes and adolescents [adolescent boys] themselves, who danced till they dropped; it was said by grown-up girls and young men who came to these balls with the idea of condescending to them, and found in them the very best of merriment. In that very year two marriages came out of these balls. The two pretty Princesses Gorchakov found suitors and got married, and thus made these balls even more famous. What was peculiar about these balls was that there was no host or hostess: there was only the good-natured Iogel, flying about like fluff, bowing according to the rules of his art, and accepting tickets for lessons from all his guests; and the fact that only those came to these balls who wished to dance and have fun as girls of thirteen and fourteen wish to, who are putting on long dresses for the first time. Everyone, with rare exceptions, was or seemed to be pretty: so rapturously did they all smile and so brightly did their eyes shine. Sometimes even the best pupils danced the pas de châle, [shawl dance] the best of whom was Natasha, distinguished by her grace; but at this last ball they danced only écossaises, anglaises, and the mazurka, which was just coming into fashion. The hall had been taken by Iogel in Bezukhov's house, and the ball was a great success, as everybody said. There were many pretty girls, and the Rostov young ladies were among the best. They were both particularly happy and merry. That evening Sonya, proud of Dolokhov's proposal, of her refusal, and of her explanation with Nikolai, whirled about even while still at home, not letting the maid finish doing her braids, and now shone entirely through with impulsive joy.

Natasha, no less proud of being in a long dress for the first time, at a real ball, was even happier. They were in white muslin dresses with pink ribbons.

Natasha fell in love from the very moment she entered the ball. She was not in love with anyone in particular, but in love with everyone. She was in love with whoever she was looking at at the moment she looked at them.

"Ah, how lovely!" she kept saying, running up to Sonya.

Nikolai and Denisov walked about the rooms, looking affectionately and patronizingly at the dancers.

"How sweet she is, she will be a beauty," said Denisov.

"Who?"

"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov.

"And how she dances, what grace!" he said again, after a short pause.

"But who are you talking about?"

"About your sister, of course," cried Denisov angrily.

Rostov smiled.

"Mon cher comte; vous êtes l'un de mes meilleurs écoliers, il faut que vous dansiez," [My dear count, you are one of my best pupils, you must dance] said little Iogel, approaching Nikolai. "Voyez combien de jolies demoiselles." [See how many pretty young ladies there are.] He turned with the same request to Denisov, who had also been his pupil.

"Non, mon cher, je ferai tapisserie," [No, my dear fellow, I will play the wallflower] said Denisov. "Don't you remember how ill I profited from your lessons?..."

"Oh no!" said Iogel, hastily consoling him. "You were only inattentive, but you had aptitude, yes, you had aptitude."

They struck up the newly introduced mazurka. Nikolai could not refuse Iogel and invited Sonya. Denisov sat down with the old ladies and, leaning on his saber and beating time with his foot, told them some merry stories, making the old ladies laugh, while he glanced at the dancing youth. Iogel danced in the first couple with Natasha, his pride and best pupil. Softly, delicately moving his little feet in their shoes, Iogel flew first across the hall with the timid, but diligently executing Natasha. Denisov did not take his eyes off her and beat time with his saber, with such an air as clearly said that he himself was not dancing only because he did not want to, and not because he could not. In the middle of the figure he called out to Rostov who was passing by.

"That's not it at all," he said. "Is that the Polish mazurka? But she dances excellently."

Knowing that Denisov was famous even in Poland for his skill in dancing the Polish mazurka, Nikolai ran up to Natasha:

"Go and choose Denisov. See how he dances! It's a marvel!" he said.

When Natasha's turn came again, she got up and, moving quickly in her shoes with little bows, timidly ran alone across the hall to the corner where Denisov was sitting. She saw that everyone was looking at her and waiting. Nikolai saw that Denisov and Natasha were arguing with smiles, and that Denisov was refusing, though smiling joyfully. He ran up.

"Please, Vasily Dmitrich," Natasha was saying, "do come, please."

"Now, really, excuse me, Countess," Denisov was saying.

"Come now, Vasya," said Nikolai.

"It's exactly as if they are coaxing Vaska the cat," said Denisov jokingly.

"I will sing for you the whole evening," said Natasha.

"The enchantress can do anything with me!" said Denisov and unhooked his saber. He stepped out from behind the chairs, took his partner firmly by the hand, raised his head, and put his foot forward, waiting for the beat. Only on horseback and in the mazurka was Denisov's small stature not noticeable, and he appeared to be the fine fellow he felt himself to be. Waiting for the beat, he glanced sideways at his partner victoriously and playfully, unexpectedly clicked one foot and, like a ball, bounded elastically from the floor and flew along the circle, carrying his partner with him. He flew noiselessly halfway across the room on one foot, and it seemed he did not see the chairs standing in front of him and was hurtling straight at them; but suddenly, clicking his spurs and spreading his legs, he stopped on his heels, stood so for a second, stamped his feet on the same spot with a clatter of spurs, whirled rapidly, and, clicking his right foot against his left, flew along the circle again. Natasha guessed what he meant to do, and, without knowing how herself, followed him—abandoning herself to him. Now he spun her around, now on his right, now on his left hand, now dropping on one knee, he led her around him, and again sprang up and darted forward with such impetuosity as if he meant to run across all the rooms without drawing breath; then suddenly he stopped again and performed another new and unexpected step. When he had spun his partner briskly in front of her seat and clicked his spur, bowing to her, Natasha did not even curtsey to him. She fixed her eyes on him in perplexity, smiling as if she did not recognize him.

"What is this?" she said.

Despite the fact that Iogel did not acknowledge this mazurka as the real one, everyone was delighted with Denisov's skill, they began to choose him incessantly, and the old men, smiling, began to talk about Poland and about the good old days. Denisov, flushed from the mazurka and wiping himself with his handkerchief, sat down beside Natasha and did not leave her for the rest of the ball.